Kiss Me With Your Mouth
by Justine Samulet Delarge
Summary: Dean knew he had a pretty mouth, but didn't realize how much it drove Sam crazy. Until now. Sam/Dean. Yes, that means Wincest.
1. Chapter 1

Kiss Me With Your Mouth

Dean Winchester's mouth once literally caused a traffic accident. A driver approaching Sam and Dean walking down the sidewalk on the other side of the street caught sight of Dean's mouth and stared, rapt, head turning to follow Dean, not seeing that the car in front of him had come to a stop. He plowed straight into the back of the sedan with an expensive-sounding crunch, and buried his face in his hands as he realized what had just happened. Sam laughed, having seen the whole thing. Dean looked puzzled.

In an earlier era, sonnets would have been written to the soft perfection of Dean Winchester's mouth. Painters would have clamored for the privilege of painting his portrait, lingering too long on the details of those lips, slightly parted, that Dean could not help running his tongue over a thousand times a day.

Really. He couldn't help it. It was a nervous tic. Soothed him to slip his tongue out over his lower lip and dart back in his mouth.

It certainly wasn't deliberate. Until the day he noticed—really noticed—how Sam stared at his mouth.

Oh, he knew that Sam loved his mouth. Knew by the way Sam dragged his tongue across the inside of his lower lip, nipped and sucked at it, kissed him for what felt like hours. Knew by the way Sam could not get enough of Dean's mouth on his cock, always wanted to see it, wanted Dean to blow him in broad daylight, sunlight streaming across Dean's face. But Sam loved everything about Dean, couldn't get enough of any part of him. Dude was gonna be the death of him—and Dean couldn't think of a finer way to go out.

But he didn't realize the full extent of the power his mouth (cocksucking mouth, cocksucking mouth, Christ, he'd heard that phrase since he was 14 years old) had over his brother until the diner in Springfield run by a Russian couple.

"…and the pierogi today are just excellent." The waitress was running down the list of specials for the boys. Sam's face lit up.

"Yeah, I'll have that."

Dean grimaced. He was not what you'd call an adventurous eater. "Bacon cheeseburger for me. Thanks."

Dean became aware that he might have ordered the wrong thing when he saw the plate of fat little dumplings swimming in butter deposited in front of his brother.

"So... what's in those anyway?" Dean took a bite of his burger. Not half bad, but Dean had eaten approximately a thousand bacon cheeseburgers in the previous five years. Never had a pierogi. In fact, he didn't even know what they were, just that they sounded weird.

"Oh my god dude. You've never had pierogi? They're like… potstickers filled with potatoes and onions, or ground beef and bacon. And these are fucking awesome." Sam forked another pierogi into his mouth, smearing butter all over his lips.

"Give." Dean injected a little command voice into it, but he didn't need to bother. Sam was more than willing to share.

Sam speared a dumpling on his fork, swirled it around in the pool of melted butter and offered it to Dean.

"Mmph. Holy shit," Dean mumbled, butter dripping down his chin. He swallowed, wiping his chin, and swiped his tongue over his lower lip, glistening with butter.

Sam opened his mouth to say something…and then just froze, jaw open.

"Y'aright there Sammy?"

"Fine. I'm fine." Sam blinked a few times. "So… you like those?"

"Fuck yeah, dude. Should have said something. Why'd I order a damn burger?"

Sam drummed the fingers of one hand on his thigh underneath the table, and flagged down the waitress with the other.

"'Scuse me, ma'am? Could we get another order of these, please?" Sam pushed Dean's burger to the side and slid his plate of pierogi all the way over in front of Dean.

Dean grinned, and tore in. He ate all of his plate and half of Sam's, who suddenly seemed not very hungry.

"We are so coming back here tomorrow." His lips shiny with butter, Dean swirled his tongue over his mouth like a cat, and sucked the butter off his fingertips.

And Sam moaned. Fucking moaned, in the middle of the diner, loud enough that if anyone had been sitting in the next booth, they would have heard it clear as day.

Dean glanced up at Sam. He looked practically feral, pupils wide. Anyone could read that expression.

Dean's mouth twitched at the corner. This? Was going to be fun.

He slowly dragged his finger through the butter on the plate and brought it to his mouth.

"Dean. Fuck." Sam gripped the edge of the table.

Dean smeared the butter deliberately across his lower lip and looked up at Sam.

Sam practically choked.

The waitress picked that exact moment to drop off the check. "Everything good?"

Sam couldn't speak. Dean smirked and answered, "Yeah. Real good. Thanks."

And when Dean, still holding Sam's gaze, let his mouth part and swept his tongue slowly over the expanse of his bottom lip, Sam abruptly stood up, threw some cash on the table, hissed, "Two minutes," and headed to the diner bathroom.

Sixty seconds later, Dean was locking the bathroom door behind them. Sam shoved Dean against the wall, not touching Dean except with his hands, angling his body backward as though he would catch fire if he had any more contact than that. He pressed his huge hands on either side of Dean's face, held it still, and licked his mouth, cleaning the butter off with his tongue in broad strokes.

"…have any fucking idea…Christ, Dean, nearly lost it right in front of the fucking waitress…"

Dean had never seen Sam this worked up, and he'd spent hours teasing Sam to the point of insanity before. In fact, that was pretty much his favorite thing to do. Make his Sammy lose his fucking mind, make the rest of this world and all the others fall away until it was only him and Sam, strip him down to pure desire and love and need, make him so desperate for Dean that the lightest touch would make him writhe and beg ("_Dean please fuck Dean please ohmygod Dean need you so bad please_), and then give it all to Sam, give him everything he was begging for, make him come so hard that he would (_never admit this to anyone_) fall apart in sobs in Dean's arms afterwards. And this? This took Sam from zero to sixty in 2.4 seconds flat. Oh, he was so gonna use this.

Dean gripped Sam's ass tight and pulled him hard against him, opening his mouth to Sam's kiss. The second his cock made contact with Dean's denim-covered thigh, Sam came like a freight train, practically screaming into Dean's mouth. Then he dropped to his knees, trembling with aftershocks and wrecked and so fucking gorgeous Dean could hardly stand it, and practically inhaled Dean's cock to the base until he came, muffling his cries with his hand.

Oh yes. Dean was SO gonna use this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dean didn't need to reduce Sam to a quivering mass, begging for anything, everything, because his ego demanded it. He didn't get off on taking control away from Sam, or seeing his tall, strong, capable brother rendered defenseless and vulnerable. That wasn't it at all.

Dean needed it because in his bones, he knew he wasn't worthy of Sam. Sam, who was light and warmth and everything about this life that was good. Sam, who somehow retained a core of sweetness and love despite the epic metric tonnage of shit that had landed on him since he turned six months old and had never stopped piling up. Sam, whose bone structure and well-developed muscles epitomized the ideal proportions of Greek gods, whose face made women stop dead in their tracks, whose hair drove teenage girls crazy, whose mind was keen and inquisitive, who was capable of loving with a ferocity that literally stole Dean's breath away.

Dean knew Sam would never leave. He knew that. But sometimes he worried Sam might be "with him" with him because he was stuck at his side, stuck with his pain-in-the-ass big brother, thrown together by fate so tightly that he couldn't have anything or anyone else.

But if Dean used every ounce of his astonishing talent to make Sam come apart, render him crazy and incoherent with desire, make him give himself to Dean like he'd never done with anyone else ever, make him come so hard it seemed like his body would fly apart, make him ache for Dean's touch during the day, desperate for it at night… then Dean could believe he had earned Sam. It was only when Sam trembled beneath him, begging with every breath of air in his lungs, his need stoked to the breaking point, that Dean felt truly secure. Because he knew in that moment, knew without a shred of doubt, that Sam only wanted him. Wanted him more than anything. And he knew that he could deliver. He wouldn't let Sam down. He could give Sam every bit of what he needed and then some, and Sam would stay because he wanted to, not because he had to. And when Sam shuddered in his arms afterwards, whispering broken phrases of love and devotion like prayers on the lips of a saint, then… then Dean knew, knew without a shred of doubt, that Sam truly loved him.

So this new discovery of how Sam had a real thing for Dean's mouth…this was a godsend. He could use it to keep Sam on a constant simmer all day, just by little things. Just by talking to a lead, letting Sam hang back and watch his mouth. And all it took was him making eye contact with Sam while chewing his lip thoughtfully or sucking the blood from a cut on his finger to bring that simmer up to a boil. Sam would fall on him when they were safe in the car, grab him by the lapels of his suit, drag him close and kiss him like a drowning man breaking the surface of a wave.

After the pierogi incident, where Sam went fucking crazy from Dean licking the butter from his lips, Dean made a point of eating messy food, fish sticks with tartar sauce, fries with ketchup, anything that would smear across his mouth as he ate and make Sam white-knuckle his beer.

At a truck stop in Des Moines, Dean ordered for them while Sam went to wash up, and made a point of asking the waitress for tons of mayo on Dean's BLT. Dean crunched into the sandwich, and the first thick glob of mayonnaise oozed out onto his mouth.

Sam's cheeks flushed red instantly. "Dude. Really? You've got to be fucking kidding me." Dean licked off the mayo and stared at Sam steadily.

"Something wrong, baby boy?" Sam squirmed in his seat, dropping one hand below the table, and Dean knew he was palming his erect cock.

"Uh-uh. Hands where I can see them, Sam."

"Sadistic bastard." Sam looked legitimately pissed, but did as Dean said.

"You know it." Dean took another bite, and a dollop of mayonnaise squirted onto his lower lip.

"Oh, come ON, Dean, that's… that's fucking obscene."

Dean blinked at Sam, slow and languid, and leaned across the table, pouting his lips out just a bit. "Whattaya say, Sammy, gonna clean me up?"

Frank desire flashed across Sam's face, and Dean's heart stopped at the thought that Sam might really do it. This was followed in short order by a crashing wave of embarrassment flooding across Sam's features (Dean made a note to himself to feed the emerging seedling of Sam's exhibitionist kink), and then a truly epic bitchface. "Dean. I'd die for you. Hell, I have died for you. But I am NOT going to lick mayonnaise off your mouth in the middle of a crowded restaurant."

Dean shrugged and swirled his tongue across his lips, making a great show of cleaning them off thoroughly. Sam stared at Dean like he was the only real thing in a world of plastic, breath coming faster.

"I'll let you off today." The place was packed, it was true. And with the kind of people that might not take kindly to such a clearly homoerotic moment. "But next time, Sammy?"

Sam swallowed hard.

"Next time, say yes."

Dean made Sam wait all afternoon until they were back in the motel room before he let Sam have what he wanted. He pulled Sam's shirt over his head, tugged his boots and jeans off, and shoved him down in the padded recliner. Then, kneeling between his legs, Dean wrapped his lips around Sam's cock and keeping his eyes fixed on Sam's, slid his mouth up and down so slowly, Sam was nearly coming out of his skin, nails digging into the arms of the chair hard enough to tear the threadbare fabric.

Dean's mouth rose and fell, tongue dancing, lips forming a perfect seal for the suction. Slow, languorous, he licked, sucked and nipped at Sam like a connoisseur, taking his sweet time (because he loved this, he honestly loved this, would suck Sam's cock for hours if he thought Sam would survive the experience), then speeding up without warning, sucking hard and fast, jacking hard with one hand, cradling Sam's balls in the other, until Sam was practically convulsing, hovering right on the edge-and pulled his mouth off, not letting Sam tip over the edge, slowing down once more, doing this over and over until Sam, sheened with sweat, was writhing, panting, pleading with his whole body.

Dean paused and rubbed the head of Sam's cock over his lips, slicking his mouth with the clear, sweet droplets at the tip, making his lips gleam, eyes locked on Sam's face all the while, watching Sam watch him.

Sam made a choked sound, his cock twitching in Dean's hand. Dean had driven Sam past language, barely able to string two words together. The first word Sam ever spoke, the last word he would ever utter, the only word his brain could retain in that moment was his brother's name. "Dean… Dean…"

"This what you want, Sammy?" Dean flared his tongue along the bottom of the ridge, dragged it up slow and rough.

"Dean…"

"Want to come in my mouth? On my lips? See me lick it off?"

Sam's hips bucked up uncontrollably. He remembered another word. "Please. Please please please please please…"

Dean gripped the base of Sam's cock, wet with his saliva, and jacked it slowly, wrapping his lips around the shaft and twining his tongue in circles around the head. "Yeah?" Dean practically purred. "I'll give you what you need. But you gotta do something for me."

Sam opened his eyes wide. "Anything. Fuck. Anything."

Dean teased the tip of his tongue into the slit. "Next time I tell you to clean me up like that, Sammy… you fucking do it."

Sam gasped, arching his back. "Yeah. Yeah. Promise. Swear."

"Don't care how many people are watching."

Sam spread his thighs wider, threw his head back, surrendering to Dean completely. "Fuck. Yeah. For you. Swear."

Dean plunged his mouth over Sam, taking him deep, all the way down, the way he'd had to learn how to do for Sam, because Christ that boy was huge, sucking harder on the way back up, scraping his tongue along the underside, swirling around the top and driving back down, again and again. Sam cried out, his hips thrusting off the recliner in a fierce spasm, thigh muscles and abs literally rippling. _Only me_, Dean thought with a flood of joy so sharp it felt like triumph. _Only I get to see this._

He pulled his mouth off for just a moment, wrapped his fingers around Sam's cock, letting Sam fuck up into his hand, just long enough to say, "Want to taste you. Gonna come for me, baby boy? Come in my mouth?"

Sam's entire body shuddered, and Dean took him into his mouth again, driving the orgasm out of Sam, demanding it. He worked him shallow, not halfway down his throat, fist working the base of his cock, so that when Sam came, his brother's name on his lips, he flooded Dean's mouth, thick and bitter and better than anything.

Dean pulled away so the last spasm spattered across his lips, reddened and swollen. Sam groaned at the sight, helpless, the tail end of his orgasm rising to a whole new level, wrenching another convulsion out of him.

Dean opened his mouth so Sam could see how full it was, and swallowed.

"Fuck, Dean…"

"Taste so good, Sam." Dean's tongue swept out and licked up a drop of come on his lip.

Sam's cock jumped, as though it were desperate to get hard again. Dean sat up on his knees and leaned closer to Sam.

"This what you were wanting to see all day?"

Sam gripped Dean's jaw with one hand, tilting his face up. Dean allowed him to, letting Sam drink in the sight of Dean's mouth bejeweled with white pearls of Sam's come.

"Can't believe you actually did that for me."

Sam stared at him for a long, long time, rubbing his thumb against Dean's cheek softly, stared like he was trying to memorize what he was seeing, burn it onto his retinas so he would see it when he closed his eyes like an afterimage of a solar eclipse.

Dean had never felt more loved.

Sam grazed his thumb across Dean's lower lip, pushed it into his mouth. Dean closed his lips over it and sucked Sam's come off, eliciting a low moan. Sam leaned forward and swiped his tongue over Dean's mouth, taking his time, licking up every droplet. This time, it was Dean who moaned, still rock-hard and fully clothed.

"What do you want?" Sam asked in a half-whisper. "Anything. Fucking anything."

Dean reached up one hand and brushed the back of his fingers across Sam's lips. "What do you think I want, Sammy? I'm not the only one with a pretty mouth."


	3. Chapter 3

Kiss Me With Your Mouth Chapter 3

Dean was a sadist. That was the only possible explanation. Alistair really had carved him into a new animal. Because Dean was getting off—literally—on torturing Sam.

First it was the melted butter. And the messy food. And then the mayonnaise, and Dean sliding those lips up and down Sam's cock for what felt like hours until he was practically crying, desperate to come. And Dean's green eyes on him the whole time, watching Sam come apart, fucking loving it.

He'd run through all the expected food products, and was looking for something new to make Sam turn red and squirm in public, when touching Dean was taboo. They were standing outside a storefront in their Fed suits when a gaggle of chirping teenage girls swarmed around them and flitted past like a glinting school of fish. And he got a hint of that scent. That high school prom scent. That sticky fumbling in the back seat of the car scent.

"Hey, Sam, get us some coffee?" Dean eyed the beauty supply store two doors down.

"Sure, Dean." Sam shook his hair out.

"Don't get that freakin' hazelnut shit for yourself, though. Stinks the car up." Sam didn't even roll his eyes. Still in a good mood from being fucked the night before until he was boneless and pliant.

As soon as he was out of sight, Dean ran into the beauty store. He found what he was looking for almost instantly.

Back in the motel, Dean let Sam shower first, and didn't join him (although it caused him physical pain to know Sam was naked under the pelting water, cleaning himself up good for Dean). When Sam was done, Dean took a shower, glad to be free of the restrictive suit and tie. He dressed in the bathroom, and slipped the multipack of Bonne Bell Lip Smackers out of the duffel bag where he'd stashed it.

Strawberry. Hell yeah.

"Ready to hit the bar, Sammy?" Dean strode out of the bathroom, ruffling his wet hair forward.

"Yep, let me just shut this down." Sam turned off the laptop and plugged the charger into the wall. He didn't notice Dean's mouth until he stepped outside and Dean leaned in to lock the motel door behind them. He froze in his tracks.

Dean's mouth gleamed with shiny, liquid lip gloss. Lip gloss that smelled like strawberries.

"Guh."

"Is that an actual word, Sammy?" Dean smirked, his lips twitching.

"Dean." Sam's nose flared like a bloodhound. "You… you're wearing… that's Lip Smackers."

"Why, yes it is, Sam."

"You're wearing lip gloss."

Dean leaned in just a little.

"Flavored lip gloss." He licked his lips. "And damn. Sure tastes good. Right, Sammy?"

(Dean had never forgotten finding Sammy in a daze on the bleachers, reeling from his first kiss, from Sarah, the little lip gloss addict. Dean asked him how it was, and Sam replied, "Tasted like strawberries.")

"You're evil. You're actually fucking evil."

Dean bit his lower lip, and watched Sam spasm. With a laugh, he started walking to the car, and turned back when he noticed Sam had not followed him.

Sam was still in front of their motel room, banging his head not altogether gently on the door.

The Irish bar was within walking distance of the motel, and served basic pub grub (Dean had a knack for finding exactly this sort of setup). It was packed with people, playing pool, listening to the jukebox, shooting darts, and, of course, drinking.

Dean ordered for both of them. "Two fish and chips and two double shots of Bushmills." When the chesty blond set their drinks down, Dean took a sip. "Whoa. That's nice. Whiskey with a little strawberry. Dude, they should rim the glass with this stuff, like margaritas!"

Sam tossed back his entire double shot with one stiff-wristed motion, then buried his head in his hands.

Sam was on his second drink when the waitress brought two large platters to the table, laden with steaming beer-battered cod and golden-brown potato wedges. Dean gave her a thousand-watt smile. "Miss, can I get an extra side of tartar sauce? Thanks, sweetheart." She blinked and trotted off to oblige.

Dean looked around, then quickly pulled out the tube of Lip Smackers and reapplied it thickly, the sweet strawberry scent potent even in the thick atmosphere of the pub.

"I'm going to die."

"C'mon, Sammy."

"To fucking die. You are going to kill me. Right here. In, like, seconds."

"Bet you're dying for a taste, aren't you."

Sam went to stand up and stalk…somewhere, but a light touch of Dean's hand on his wrist gentled him.

"Don't I always take care of you, Sam?" Dean studied Sam's face with real concern. Sam took a deep breath.

"Yeah."

Dean leaned in close, and whispered in Sam's ear. "Love watching you want me so bad, Sam. Need it." Sam swallowed, turning his head toward Dean, and if the waitress hadn't showed up at that exact moment, Dean was sure Sam would have seized his face in both hands and kissed the sticky sweetness from his lips right then and there.

Sam ate quickly, like it was a chore, like he knew if he didn't get the food in him fast, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on it.

And he was right.

Dean ate the chips first. All part of the plan. Sam was a big guy, and he needed his calories, so he ate the potatoes slowly and let Sam finish before he started in on his fish.

Then he took a chunk and dunked it in the tartar sauce.

As he brought it to his mouth, Sam froze, mid-chew.

The thick white sauce oozed over Dean's lower lip.

Sam shifted in the bench seat, spreading his knees wider. Making room. Dean was seized with a desire to disappear under the table and take Sam's cock into his mouth right there, smearing it with tartar sauce, seeing if he could make Sam come before anyone noticed.

He very nearly did.

Instead, he made a great show of eating his fish as messily as he could, smearing the sauce all over his mouth, licking it off his fingers.

"Fuck. Dean." Sam's cheeks were bright red, and his pupils blown so wide, his eyes looked almost like a demon. The thought made Dean shiver. "Seriously. I'm going out of my mind here. I can't take anymore. Show some fucking mercy."

"Hey Sam. Remember what you promised me?"

Sam dug his nails into his palms. "Everything."

"I was thinking of something more specific." Dean swallowed the last bite, thick globs of sauce on his lips. Sam just stared.

"You promised next time I told you to clean me up in a crowded restaurant, you'd say yes."

And like he'd been loosed from a bow, Sam lunged across the table and drove his mouth down onto Dean, licking the sauce from his lips, cleaning off every smear of it, nipping and sucking the strawberry lip gloss from underneath. When Dean licked into Sam's mouth, Sam moaned. Loud. Shameless.

"Drawing quite an audience there, boys." The waitress stood at the table, grinning. Sam and Dean broke the clinch and blinked. Every eye was on them. Not all of them friendly.

She leaned in. "We're not as ass-backwards around here as you might think. But you gotta be careful with the PDAs. And the table sex." She wiped her hands on her apron. "And you." She smacked Dean on the head. "Stop teasing that beautiful man you got like you been doing all night. You get him home and take care of him. Proper. Plenty of folks willing to do it if you won't."

This time, it was Dean's turn to blush, and Sam to erupt in a riot of laughter.

Dean stuffed cash into her hand, and they practically ran out the door, arms around each other.

Inside the motel room, Dean spun Sam around and pressed him against the wall.

"Wait."

"What?"

"More." Dean's mouth twitched, and he drew the tube of Lip Smackers from his pocket, dragging the applicator over his mouth slowly, covering every centimeter.

"Such a pretty mouth, Dean. Christ. Gonna be the death of me." Sam licked lightly across the seam of Dean's lips.

"You were so good tonight, Sam. Earned your reward." The way Sam kissed Dean made him dizzy. He might act like he was in control, but that was only to keep a handle on things, keep himself from flying apart and disappearing into his love for Sam, his need for him. "What do you want?"

Sam twisted his hands in Dean's shirt, pulling it up, touching Dean's skin, suddenly hard and demanding. "Wanna come for you."

"How? Any way you want."

Sam gripped Dean's hips and trembled. "Wanna fuck you."

"Yeah? Fuck my mouth?"

Sam bit Dean's lower lip—hard. "No. Wanna fuck your ass."

Dean gasped into Sam's mouth.

"Yeah, Sammy. Ok."

Rather than break the kiss, Sam simply ripped Dean's t-shirt down the front and tore it off. Dean's knees buckled, and Sam picked Dean up and carried him to the bed like he weighed nothing, stripping him of his boots and jeans in record time, then shedding his own.

"Teasing me all day, Dean. All fucking day. Won't fuck me in the shower, won't let me jack off, and that fucking lip gloss. Trying to make me lose my mind? You did." Sam dripped lube onto his fingers and worked them inside Dean, making him writhe and pant beneath him. "I'd have fucked you right there, Dean. Right on that table. Sucked you off, made you come down my throat in front of everybody, screaming my name in front of everybody, and then put you on your hands and knees on the pool table and fucked that pretty ass of yours so hard you were shaking and sobbing and begging me to let you come again. With everybody watching. Taking videos with their camera." Dean spasmed at that, back arching, hips bucking up. "Oh… you liked that. Like the idea of people taking videos of me fucking you, spread open like a slut just for me, taking anything I want to give you?"

Dean had never heard Sam talk like this. But maybe a filthy mouth ran in the family.

He loved it.

Dean had never given it up like this to anyone, but his gorgeous baby brother was talking it out of him, fucking it out of him with his strong fingers twisting in his ass, demanding it from him. And Dean never could say no to Sam.

"Yeah, Sammy. I like it. Doing that for you."

"I should make you. Take you to some bar, tell 'em to get out their phones, gonna give 'em a good show." Sam spread Dean's legs open so wide his inner thighs stretched uncomfortably, and Dean didn't fucking care. "Fuck that perfect little mouth until your lips are all red. Make you spread your ass cheeks open for me, fuck you so hard, hold your pretty face up so everyone can see you moaning and screaming from my cock in your ass…" With that, Sam drove into Dean in one smooth motion, too much all at once and not enough.

"Fuck, Sam… so good…" Dean writhed under Sam, gripping his huge shoulders, sucking in great gasping breaths.

"Bet you'd like that. You like me staring at you, making me half-crazy wanting you? Like to be watched. Like people looking at you, wanting you. Fuck, Dean. Everybody wants you." Sam's cock wasn't just coke-bottle thick, filling him up, scraping against his prostate no matter what the angle. It was long, long like his body was tall. And when he pulled himself all the way out slowly and then slammed back in to the base, it felt like it would never end.

It felt like heaven.

"But nobody but me gets to have you. Got that? You're mine." Dean threw his head back, baring his throat. Sam greedily accepted the invitation, lapping at the hollow of his throat. "Your mouth? Mine. Your ass? Mine. Christ, your fucking soul." Sam bit down on the muscle between Dean's neck and shoulder, teeth breaking the skin, tongue laving the tiny drops of blood away.

Dean felt the mother of all orgasms building, coming on with a sure promise of such ferocity he was suddenly terrified. This was going to be a tsunami. He grabbed onto Sam like a life buoy. "Yours. Sam. Yours. Everything. Yours."

Sam shifted Dean underneath him, went even deeper, held Dean's face still, looked into Dean's eyes and growled, "Come for me." And Dean screamed, literally screamed from pleasure for the first time in his life, his cock emptying every drop of fluid he had in his body, coming so hard it spattered on his chin, in his open mouth.

The noise Sam made sounded inhuman. He plunged his tongue into Dean's mouth, sucked the come from his lips and chin, coming like a primal force of nature. Dean could feel each pulse of Sam's cock, felt the warm slickness deep inside, and it sent him into overdrive, shooting another salvo across his chest and abdomen, guttural cries torn out of him.

Then Dean broke. Broke into uncontrollable sobs that seemed to come from his very bones. Sam stayed inside him, holding most of his weight off of Dean, holding him, smoothing his hair, whispering words of love and promise and praise in an uninterrupted chant.

Finally, Dean's body stilled, calmed, and Sam slipped out of him, rolled Dean onto his side and held him for a long moment. Then he padded to the bathroom and returned with a warm damp towel, wiping and caressing Dean's pliant body until he was clean.

Dean (_would never admit this to anyone_) snuggled into Sam's chest, breathing in the scent of him, of them. And as they drifted into sleep, Sam heard Dean whisper, "Love you, baby boy."


End file.
